


Safe in L.A.

by spatialvoid



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spatialvoid/pseuds/spatialvoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>When everything is over and done with – when Dottie Underwood and Whitney Frost are locked up, when Jack Thompson has seen the error of his power-hungry ways, when Dr. Jason Wilkes has disappeared (maybe literally, maybe figuratively – no one is quite sure) – he waits for Peggy Carter to call.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe in L.A.

**Author's Note:**

> Written post-2x09. Title from the song _Safe in L.A._ by Gold Motel.

When everything is over and done with – when Dottie Underwood and Whitney Frost are locked up, when Jack Thompson has seen the error of his power-hungry ways, when Dr. Jason Wilkes has disappeared (maybe literally, maybe figuratively – no one is quite sure) – he waits for Peggy Carter to call. Thompson had sauntered into his office after things had settled down a bit and told him, quite plainly, that the SSR would always have a job for Agent Carter, and so Daniel suspects that she will be on a flight to New York any moment now, soaring high above the Rockies and the Great Plains and the Appalachians. He hopes, perhaps without cause, that they have enough of an understanding for her to come and say goodbye before she goes.

* * *

It’s three days after Thompson’s departure back to New York and he still hasn’t heard a word from Peggy, and he’s aching with worry. Is she out searching for Dr. Wilkes? Is she merely resting, letting the toll of the past few weeks run its course? There’s probably nothing to be concerned over, but he’s concerned nonetheless, and so he calls Stark’s mansion, hoping (praying) that she might pick up the phone.

The phone rings for a few seemingly endless moments, and then Jarvis picks up, his voice the usual mix of jovial and professional. “Hello, Stark Residence. Ah, Chief Sousa – what can I help you with?”

Daniel inhales, hoping. “I’d like to talk to Agent Carter. Is she there?”

The other end of the line is quiet for a moment, and the he hears Jarvis sigh. “Miss Carter departed for New York two days ago.” Another long pause. “Did she not tell you she was leaving?”

There are tears welling up in his eyes, quite involuntarily. “No,” he answers carefully, attempting to maintain his quickly crumbling composure. “No, she didn’t.”

“Chief Sousa, are you quite all right?”

Daniel blinks away the tears.  “Yeah… yes, I’m all right. That’ll be all, Jarvis, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, Chief Sousa,” Jarvis replies, and Daniel sets the phone down on the receiver with a click almost as heavy as his heart feels.

* * *

He doesn’t go into the office the next day. He’s too sad, and a little bit too hungover, and mostly he can’t believe that she left without a word, because he had thought that there was something there, _an understanding_ , and had he been reading her all wrong all those weeks?

Daniel’s midway into his lunch when the phone rings, Rose on the other end of the line, her voice tense and agitated.

“Where the hell are you?” She asks in a voice usually reserved for only the worst theatrical propositions. “It’s chaos over here! You’ve got to come and sort things out between your agents!”

He sighs, rubs his forehead with the palm of his hand, his head throbbing. “I wasn’t feeling too well this morning, Rose, I’ll be in tomorrow.”

She scoffs at him. “’Wasn’t feeling too well’, my ass. You’re a federal agent, Sousa, not some mediocre doer-of-paperwork. Get yourself up here. You’re needed.”

Daniel rolls his eyes and concedes. “Fine. Give me an hour.”

* * *

When he walks into the Auerbach Theatrical Agency an hour later, clean-shaven and hopefully looking less hungover than he feels, Rose is waiting for him, hands on her hips, an aggravated expression on her face.

“You’ve been drinking,” she states.

He inhales slowly, bracing himself for a scolding. “It’s not Prohibition anymore, Rose.”

She looks him in the eye piercingly. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t been.”

“That bad in there, huh?”

She sort of half-smiles. “Oh, I wouldn’t quite say that.”

* * *

He steps into the bullpen and everything is calm. All of the agents not out working on cases are sitting at their desks, eating, working on paperwork, doodling on scrap paper.

One of the agents turns to look at him as he walks by. “What’re you doing in so late, Chief? You look like hell.”

Daniel grimaces, the bright lights of the office doing little to relieve his headache. “I’m fine.”

He walks the rest of the way to his office, stopping to take a breath before he opens the door, his ribs still not quite healed from the attack by Vernon Masters’ men. He might as well stay at the office, even if things seem calm – no point in going home now.

When he swings open the door, someone is sitting behind his desk, their face obscured by a slightly smudged looking newspaper. The person’s hands are pale, and their fingernails are coated in deep red polish. His breath hitches in his chest.

“That’s my desk,” he says, hoping – but not really believing.

The newspaper lowers, slowly. “I’m quite aware,” Peggy says with a self-satisfactory smile, setting the newspaper neatly on his desk, and his heart feels like it’s pounding right out of him. “I must say, this chair is _most_ comfortable.”

He stands awkwardly by the door, just looking at her, and he feels like he can’t breathe. “I called – Jarvis said you’d gone back to New York.”

She smiles at him, her red lips curving pleasantly. “I had.”

He raises an eyebrow, tries to appear composed. “So what are you doing here?”

“Well,” she says, standing and stepping around the desk towards him, “I only returned to New York to tie up a few loose ends.”

He starts to raise his eyebrows, but he can feel her breath on his face now, warm and smelling like cinnamon. “Loose ends?”

She reaches out, sets her right hand on his, and smiles warmly.  “I had to gather my belongings,” she says, and he thinks his heart might stop, “and transfer, officially, from the New York SSR office to this one.”

His eyes go wide, and he can feel his mouth hanging open in a sort of astonished grin. “You’re here to stay?”

She grins, sliding her arms around him and resting her chin on his right shoulder, and she’s so warm and soft and solid and (thank god) alive, and he can feel his hands trembling as he wraps his arms around her. “Only if you’ll have me,” she whispers, her breath hot against his ear.

He leans his crutch against the wall, reaches behind his back for her hands, puts enough space between then so he can look, really look at her. She’s so beautiful, all tired eyes and red lips and pin-curled hair. His heart is beating wildly, his thoughts repeating themselves with a chorus of _this is really happening this is really happening this is really happening_. “No doubt about it,” he replies, not even trying to look nonchalant, and her eyes are glistening and she’s grinning and oh, god, _this is really happening_.

“Thank you,” she says, and she says it like a promise, like the future carefully wrapped into an ordinary phrase of gratitude.

He squeezes her hands gently, pulls her closer to him. “You know I’m in this with you until the end.”

“I know,” she whispers, her mouth millimeters away from his own. “I’m so very glad you are.”

“You and me both,” he breathes, and then her mouth is on his, cautious but yearning, and he can’t remember why he spent all those months ignoring her calls, all those months trying to pretend he didn’t care, because he cares _so much_. So much.

* * *

Her hands are twisting gently in his hair and he’s debating the merits of relocating to somewhere that isn’t their place of work when the door opens and Rose strides in, nearly pushing him over.  Peggy pulls away, sets her hands on his arms to steady him.

“Those employee transfer documents for Agent Carter came through, Chief,” Rose says, and Peggy looks gratefully at her.

“Thank you, Rose,” she says.

Rose just smiles, a sly little knowing smile, and rolls her eyes. “’Bout time,” she replies, and on her way out the door she turns her head back towards Daniel’s office, grinning. “Oh, and Peg? If you could, tell Mr. Jarvis that he owes me twenty dollars.”

The door clicks shut behind her and Daniel looks at Peggy, his eyebrows raised, her hands still on his arms. “Have they been… betting on us getting together?”

Peggy rolls her eyes.  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Daniel quirks his head at her.

“Mr. Jarvis once told me that he believed you and I possessed ‘something of a connection.’” She pauses, watches his eyebrows go up. “So no, I wouldn’t be terribly surprised.”

Daniel takes her hands in his, running his thumbs over her smooth red nails. “Hmm,” he breathes, his face creeping closer to hers, “I think I agree with Rose.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

“About time,” he says, and she kisses him again, her hands on his shoulders, and while he has so many questions he wants to ask her, things he wants to tell her, just then he can’t really bring himself to care about anything other how warm and soft and surprisingly gentle she is. 

* * *

It’s California, and so he drives her to the beach, the mid-afternoon July sun hot and scorching on their necks. Peggy spreads out a blanket on the sand and he sits, carefully, sets down his crutch, takes off his jacket, rolls up his shirt sleeves, watches her hair blowing softly in the wind.

“I’m sorry I left New York,” he says softly, and he watches as she looks at him, her eyes going soft around the edges, her hand creeping over to tangle with his.

“Even in a moment like this?” She asks, and looks out over the horizon at the vast blue ocean.

He looks with her, for a moment, and then he looks at her. “Maybe not in a moment like this. But… when you got here, when I was still with Violet, when Violet broke things off… I wished I hadn’t overcomplicated things. I wished I’d pushed a little more to get what I wanted.”

She gazes at him serenely. “What did you want?”

He smiles then. “Don’t you know?”

She rolls her eyes, her mouth twitching into a little smile. “Don’t be coy.”

He squeezes her hand. “You. I wanted you.”

“I wasn’t ready, Daniel,” she says, her tone and face apologetic. “I wanted to be, truly… but I wasn’t.”

He sighs. “I know that, now. I just wish we’d talked about it then. Before I packed up for California thinking I didn’t have a chance.”

She nods slowly. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "It’s okay,” he says, and then he smiles at her, because it really is okay. “We’re here now.”

She smiles, rests her head on his shoulder, watches the waves come in and out, up and down. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”


End file.
